Friendly Fire

Film: Mister Roberts
Format: Turner Classic Movies on rockin’ flatscreen.

Plans change. Some time ago, I recorded the 1935 version of A Midsummer Night’s Dream on the DVR. TCM changed its schedule, though, and instead of getting that, I got Mister Roberts. Ah well, it’s Cagney, and it’s Cagney in one of his more impressive roles, so I figured I’d watch it anyway. I’ve seen Mister Roberts before and it was film I was looking forward to seeing again. I like the cast, and while I don’t love the ending, I love most of the story.

I do wonder about how the filmmakers managed to get the U.S. Navy’s cooperation for producing this film. It doesn’t really paint the nicest picture of the Navy, or at least this one part of it. The movie takes place in the waning days of World War II in the Pacific. However, this doesn’t really take place during the shooting war. The plot takes place mainly onboard the USS Reluctant, a cargo ship that has spent the war resupplying combat ships. On the surface, it’s a successful ship and was even awarded a palm tree for efficiency.

Come Sail Away

Film: The Long Voyage Home
Format: Turner Classic Movies on rockin’ flatscreen.

John Ford was one of five Hollywood directors who went to war in the 1940s. Of the five, Ford essentially joined up before the U.S. entered the war under the assumption that we’d be there eventually. He was also the only one to enlist in the navy. Ford’s main concern initially was figuring out how to film in wartime conditions. The Long Voyage Home, adapted from a series of Eugene O’Neill short plays, was Ford’s first attempt at this. This is tangentially a war film, since we’re dealing instead with the Merchant Marine, but it’s taking place in wartime conditions, and has a plot updated from the plays to include real events of the ongoing conflict.

So, while this is a war film, we’re not going to see or hear a single shot fired. Instead, we’re going to spend time both at sea and in port with the crew of a tramp steamer called Glencairn. It’s a diverse crew of Americans, British, Irish, and Swedes who seem more or less to get along and who are happy to live under the sway of Aloysius “Drisk” Driscoll (Thomas Mitchell). Drisk likes a good scrap and loves a good drink, and so as he goes goes the crew of Glencairn. On board with him are Smitty (Ian Hunter), a taciturn Brit with upper-class tendencies; Cocky (Barry Fitzgerald), a man who has seen too much to go back to land; Yank (Ward Bond), who’s happy to be wherever he is; and Ole Olsen (John Wayne), a Swedish farmboy taken to sea and longing to get back home.

Doctor, Doctor, Please

Film: Arrowsmith
Format: Turner Classic Movies on rockin’ flatscreen.

I tend to be ambivalent to medical dramas as a rule. I know virtually nothing about medicine, so there’s a part of me that always feels like I’m playing catch up with any drama that turns on medical knowledge. This is often less true of older medical dramas like Arrowsmith. Based on an earlier novel and dumbed down for a general audience, I didn’t have any real issues following the plot of Arrowsmith, which is a nod in the film’s favor.

We essentially fast-forward through the medical education of Dr. Martin Arrowsmith (Ronald Colman), learning only that he is smart and is more interested in research than in actual medical practice. We also get a meet-cute between him and nurse Leora (Helen Hayes) which soon blossoms into a romance. In fact, it blossoms into such a romance that it immediately alters the course of his life. Offered a research position by his mentor Dr. Gottlieb (a suitably wizened and foreign-y A.E. Anson), Martin declines. Instead, he marries Leora and the two move to South Dakota near her parents. Why South Dakota? Because in Leora’s old home town there is no doctor.

Snitches Get Stitches

Film: The Informer
Format: DVD from NetFlix on laptop.

Every now and then, I run across a film that I struggle mightily to understand. That’s absolutely the case with The Informer. The story itself isn’t that difficult to understand. But for a movie as short as this one is (it clocks in at just a touch over 90 minutes), there doesn’t seem to be nearly enough story to fill the time. It’s so simple, in fact, that I kind of don’t understand why it wasn’t over at the 40-minute mark.

Gypo Nolan (Victor McLaglen, who beat most of the cast of Mutiny on the Bounty to win the Oscar) is a down-on-his-luck Irishman. He’s down on his luck because several months earlier, he was summarily dismissed from the Irish Sinn Fein rebels for refusing to kill a man in cold blood. Since that time, he has lived from hand to mouth. He sees a wanted poster for his old friend Frankie McPhillip (Wallace Ford) with a 20-pound reward. As it happens, he also runs into his streetwalking girlfriend Katie (Margot Grahame), who is “looking for work” since she’s also out of money and owes on her rent. As it happens, the reward money for turning in Frankie is exactly the amount needed to get both Gypo and Katie to America.

How the West Was Won

Film: How the West Was Won
Format: DVD from Rockford Public Library on laptop.

This is not going to be easy. How the West Was Won is a film that not only spans a massive amount of time, a good 40-50 years, and has one of those casts that starts on a Tuesday and ends on Friday. Lots of folks are given top billing for a few minutes work here but nonetheless, there are so many stars and future stars involved in the cast of this that it would take a full paragraph or two to name them all. Just as interestingly, many of them are not immediately recognizable, but can be identified by their voices. Henry Fonda in particular doesn’t look anything like himself, but there’s no mistaking that voice. Ditto for John Wayne, who makes a several minute appearance as William Tecumseh Sherman. Spencer Tracy narrates the film, and his voice is just as immediately recognizable.

We begin with the Westward quest of the Prescott family, heading to the wild country of Ohio. Led by patriarch Zebulon (Karl Malden) have little but their own gumption for the trip, and they encounter a series of problems. One of those problems turns out instead to be a friend named Linus Rawlings (James Stewart). There is a mutual attraction between Linus and Eve Prescott (Carroll Baker), but Linus is a mountain man. When he saves the family from being bushwhacked, that attraction grows. It’s not until a serious accident kills off Zeb and his wife that Eve makes a choice to stay on that spot, and Linus agrees to stay with her.

Watching Oscar: Mogambo

Film: Mogambo
Format: DVD from Rockford Public Library on laptop.

I wouldn’t call myself a huge fan of Clark Gable, but I do understand the appeal of the man on the screen. He was a player and a pimp. This may have been best demonstrated in Gone with the Wind, but I might enter Mogambo as Exhibit B. This is very much Gable’s picture because it couldn’t be anyone else’s. There is a strange provincial sense to Mogambo; it’s a boy’s own adventure film, but just as much a romance, and its depiction of both men and women are mildly sexist and offensive by today’s standards. That said, it’s still pretty entertaining.

Victor Marswell (Gable) runs a hunting/safari/trapping camp in East Africa. He collects game animals and ships them back to zoos in the rest of the world and takes people out on various expeditions. He is assisted in this by a number of native workers as well as John “Brownie” Brown-Pryce (Philip Stainton) and the crude and unmannered Boltchak (Eric Pohlmann). I mentioned that it’s a bit provincial, and that may be the wrong word for it. I can’t identify the guys who work at Marswell’s compound because they aren’t listed individually in the credits.

Did He or Didn't He?

Film: The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance
Format: DVD from personal collection on big ol’ television.

Think just for a moment about John Wayne. You can see him, right? You can hear him talking, right? I’d guess there’s a 50/50 chance that you’re imagining him calling somebody “Pilgrim.” If that’s the John Wayne mental stereotype you’ve pictured (it certainly is for me), you have The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance to thank for that mental picture. He says that word probably more than any other in this film.

I’ve mentioned my relationship with Westerns in the past, but I’ll sum it up here for reference. Few genres of film are so likely to fall into cliché as the Western, which means that for a lot of them, if you’ve seen one, you’ve seen a ton. This also means that Westerns that manage to get away from cliché or do something more than show us six-guns and horses have the potential to be extremely interesting. The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance is such a film, because it plays with those Western conventions and gives us something different from good guy-bad guy to think about.

Big River, Smaller Story

Film: Rio Grande
Format: DVD from Northern Illinois University Founders Memorial Library on Sue’s Mother’s Day present.

Some directors are noted for particular genres, and some become so closely tied to a genre that it becomes impossible to talk about the genre without discussing the director in question. With Westerns, that director is John Ford without question. The man is, was, and ever more shalt be an institution when it comes to the genre. Watch enough of his films, and it’s easy to see why the man is so revered. His films offer, despite being made in a golden time for Hollywood, a certain moral ambiguity a lot of the time. And there’s those great vistas.

Anyway, Rio Grande came in the heart of his career. In addition to being a classic Western of the old school right around the time of the revival of the genre spurred by Winchester ‘73, the film is also a romance and a family genre. There are similarities in tis respect to The Lives of a Bengal Lancer, although fewer than might be expected on the surface. Regardless, Ford manages to keep a lot of plates spinning through this one, even if it doesn’t mesh perfectly at the end.

I'm Your Huckleberry

Film: My Darling Clementine
Format: VHS from Northern Illinois University Founders Memorial Library on big ol’ television.

Some time ago I watched Gunfight at the O.K. Corral, which I remember most from its awful, awful theme song. John Ford’s My Darling Clementine is the same basic myth—Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday team up to shoot it out with the Clanton family near Tombstone. This is one of those cultural myths that always changes a little with the retelling. Most of the versions are essentially tall tales. This event is a piece of American folklore, and so an accurate retelling is not going to happen, especially coming from Hollywood in the mid-1940s.

Wyatt Earp (Henry Fonda) and his brothers are leading a herd of cattle across the desert on their way to California when they are accosted by an old man (Walter Brennan) and his boys not too far from Tombstone. The old man proves to be the patriarch of the Clantons and he offers to buy up the cattle, but is politely refused. Hearing that Tombstone is near, three of the Earps head off to town for a shave and a drink, leaving the fourth, James (Don Garner) to tend to the herd.

How Black were My Lungs

Film: How Green was My Valley
Format: DVD from Rockford Public Library on kick-ass portable DVD player

There have been some really good years for movies. One such is 1941. When a film beats out Citizen Kane and The Maltese Falcon for Best Picture, it had better be one hell of a picture. Well, How Green was My Valley did beat those films and a few others for Best Picture. So how does it stack up?

Sadly, not as well as it should. This is not so much a movie about the triumph of the human spirit as it is a film that trips you, kicks you over and over again, and then takes your wallet. This is a “nothing good happens in it” movie, or at least not too much does. Of course it doesn’t help a lot that we spend our time in a small Welsh mining village and never really leave it.

The film is the story of Huw Morgan (a very young Roddy McDowall) who grows up in a coal mining family. He is the youngest, and like many a young boy, looks up to his father and his brothers, all of whom work in the mines. He wishes for nothing more than to work in the mines himself someday, seeing the permanently soot-blackened skin of his father and siblings as the true mark of a man.

We also learn of his sister Angharad (Maureen O’Hara), who falls for the local preacher, Gruffydd (Walter Pidgeon). Angharad is also pursued by the son of the mine’s owner. Gruffydd gives her up since he decides that he cannot provide the sort of life for her that she deserves, and thus we see the beginnings of a theme that will follow us to the very end.

We also discover the serious problems that plague the miners—namely that their wages are terrible and that they are unorganized. A strike hits the mines and separates the family at least temporarily as the older boys side with the idea of striking for better wages and conditions while the father (Donald Crisp) believes that the strike will only bring greater problems to the already relatively impoverished workers.

We go through a series of trials with young Huw. When his mother (Sara Allgood) falls through a hole in the ice during the winter, Huw dives in and rescues her, and because of this temporarily loses the use of his legs. It is Gruffydd who helps him through this particular trial and helps him regain the ability to walk, one of the few bright spots of the story.

Huw shows promise as a scholar and is sent off to school. Here, nothing improves for the young man at first—he is belittled by his schoolmaster and bullied by the other kids since Huw is new, small, and from a poor coalmining family. Huw is taught how to box and defend himself, a fact that prevents him from another playground beating, but earns him a more severe one at the hands of his sadistic instructor. Successful in school, Huw decides to work in the mines to be like his father and brothers rather than pursue another career.

Misery piles on top of misery when Angharad returns to the village and rumors spread that she is planning to divorce her husband because she is still infatuated with Gruffydd. Naturally, this ends just about as badly as virtually everything else in the film, placing the despair cherry on top of this gloom sundae.

More than anything, How Green was My Valley reminds me of The Grapes of Wrath. The main difference is that in this film, the people dig for coal instead of pick produce, and they all have strange Welsh names.

In all honesty, and admittedly unfairly, I expected this film to rock my world completely since it beat such notable films for Best Picture honors. It didn’t. I really didn’t like this film very much, in part because of these unreal expectations and in part because it seemed to revel in its own despairing story. The people in this film get kicked repeatedly, and even the one person who might make it out legitimately keeps himself in the misery corral. It’s entirely believable that young Huw would want to follow his father and brothers into the mine, but it’s not a choice I’m happy with.

What really tweaks me, though, is Huw’s mother. In her world, Huw has made the best of all possible choices, because all of that book learning is meaningless for her, and coal mining is the best her child can aspire to. She’s played sympathetically, but she is so backward and provincial in her thinking that I can’t help but be frustrated by her.

How Green was My Valley gives all of the important choices in his life to Huw, and sees him making the wrong ones over and over. Rarely have I wanted to reach into the screen and slap some sense into a character more.

Why to watch How Green was My Valley: It won Best Picture.
Why not to watch: It’s nowhere close to earning that award.

His Terrible Swift Sword

Film: The Grapes of Wrath
Format: Streaming video from NetFlix on middlin’-sized living room television

When I was a kid, my siblings and I were expected to be reading something at all times. I don’t mean that we always had to have our noses in books, but if Mom or Dad asked us what we were currently reading, we were supposed to have an answer, and an answer that changed pretty regularly. Mom never cared what we read as long as we read something. Dad was pretty adamant that we should be reading the classics. I remember vividly a “discussion” between him and my brother Tom about Tom reading “The Grapes of Wrath.” Tom resisted, calling the book “The Grapes of Snore.”

Actually, I think all of us resisted. One sister read mysteries; the other read Westerns (specifically Louis L’Amour). One brother read science fiction; the other (Tom) read pulps. I split the difference on my brothers and read both science fiction AND pulps. I never did read “The Grapes of Wrath/Snore,” but as of today, I’ve seen the movie version.

The Grapes of Wrath is the story of the Joad family from Oklahoma. Tom Joad (Henry Fonda) has just been released on parole for killing a man in a fight. He returns to the family farm to find it deserted. In fact, the whole place is deserted. Everyone has been run off the land thanks to the Depression and the Dustbowl. With no crops, there’s no food and no money, and all of the land is being repossessed. Tom meets up with Casy (John Carradine before he became wizened), a former preacher. They also meet Muley (John Qualen), now insane and staying on the land despite the efforts of the local law to evict him.

Tom and Casy find the rest of the Joad clan on another family farm, but the joy is short-lived since this branch of the family is being evicted as well. The entire clan, plus Casy, load into a converted wagon/truck and head to California to look for sharecropping and field hand work. Along the way, they’re warned that there isn’t much work to be had, and a couple of the older family members die en route.

Once in California, the Joads discover that what they’d been told was the absolute truth—there isn’t any work to be had, and the work that is there doesn’t pay. The Joads move from camp to camp looking for something and finding nothing. At the first camp, an agitator tries to stir up the people, and is put down by the local constabulary. In the course of this, the sheriff kills a bystander, and Tom knocks him out. Casy stands in for Tom and is arrested, and the Joads head off again.

They find work at the next camp picking peaches, but discover that the only store in the area is run by the company, and the prices are so high that they aren’t much better off than before. Here, Tom runs into Casy again. Casy has essentially become a communist, or at least a dedicated socialist. He, along with a few others, plan to agitate this camp because the company is cheating the people. They promise five cents a bushel, but pay only two-and-a-half. On the way to start up their trouble, Casy is killed by a thug from the farm. Tom kills the man in turn. He isn’t seen, but he takes a crack across the face, and is now a marked man quite literally. And so the Joads are forced to leave again in a pattern that will repeat itself one more time before the end of the film.

Like many great stories and many great films, The Grapes of Wrath consists essentially of heartbreak after heartbreak for the title characters. All the Joads want is honest work and the chance to feed their family, and at every turn, they are beaten down by bad luck or flat-out greed of the wealthy farmers who hire the migrant help. Each death or disappearance in the family is treated both with sorrow and with the relief of one less mouth to feed. Noah Joad (Frank Sully) simply vanishes at one point. Rose of Sharon’s (Dorris Bowdon) husband Connie (Eddie Quillan) bugs out as well, again to relative indifference from the family. Does it matter that Rose of Sharon is pregnant with his child? Not really—he’s an adult that no longer needs feeding.

Tom Joad is an interesting character if for no other reason than the disconnect between how we as an audience are intended (and do) feel about him and his evident personality. Consider that Tom does a four-year prison stint for homicide, gets into a fight at the first migrant camp, and kills a man in the second one. In most situations, this would be evidence of a man with some sort of pathology, or at least with serious anger issues. However, we accept these faults from Tom because we spend so much time with him and see so much of him. In each case, we come to see Tom’s anger and violence as not merely acceptable, but as justifiable.

The one person I haven’t said much about so far is Ma Joad (Jane Darwell). In many ways, she is the moral center of the film, wanting nothing more than to keep her family as together as she can and keep them going. Ma Joad is a pillar of strength in this terrible, unforgiving world, and Jane Darwell not only acts the part, she looks it. This is a face worn by care but still full of hope and optimism, and ready to smile at the slightest thing. She seems like such a sweet woman—in the scene where the bystander is killed by the sheriff, I thought for just a moment it was Ma Joad, and I considered turning off the movie in that moment. You just don’t do that to the sweet old lady.

Is it a great film? It is, and for a wonder, I actually don’t mind the tacked-on uplift ending here. If anything, the film is too tame and doesn’t go far enough in exposing the plights of the Okies in the Dust Bowl, but I’m certain they went as far as they could at the time. It’s the film that made Henry Fonda who he was, and there’s a reason for that.

Why to watch The Grapes of Wrath: Powerful performances and an equally powerful narrative.
Why not to watch: Despite the last few moments, it’s a two-hour long downer.

Judging the Judge

Film: Judge Priest
Format: Streaming video from NetFlix on laptop.

Like many of the great personalities of yesteryear, the star of Will Rogers has faded in the modern day. His movies don’t get shown much, and his populist, homespun wisdom, laconic delivery, and self-effacing brand of humor has little traction in today’s world. Judge Priest offers an interesting look at the man. It’s evident that in many respects in this film, Rogers is playing himself rather than a character.

The other reality of Judge Priest is that it takes place in the Deep South in the years following that War of Northern Aggression, and it is filled with the sort of pro-Dixie propaganda that certainly pervaded that part of the country (and still does in some places). Those non-white folks are still the backwards servants that they had been for generations before, and that antebellum view of the slave as childlike and needing to be cared for is never far from the thoughts of the characters or the words in the script.

In no place is this more apparent than in the two characters of Jeff (Stepin Fetchit) and Aunt Dilsey (Hattie McDaniel). Jeff is the town layabout, the laziest man around. He’s accused of stealing chickens at the start of the film, which is our introduction to him, to Judge Billy Priest (Rogers), and to Priest’s nemesis Senator Horace Maydew (Berton Churchill). Judge Priest takes the trial on something of a roundabout course, ends up exonerating Jeff, and turns him into his own flunky and gofer.

Shortly after this, we’re introduced to Aunt Dilsey, who is Judge Priest’s maid, cook, and general servant. Aunt Dilsey sings constantly, essentially narrating her daily duties (belting out, “I got to take down de judge’s clothes/Got to take dem in de house, yes Lord/Got to get out dat old ironin’ board” as she removes clothes from the washline). Aunt Dilsey is a menial servant, and just benighted enough to be happy in her work.

The big event of the day is the return of Jerome “Rome” Priest (Tom Brown) from a Yankee law school. He’s come home to set up practice in town, one that will no doubt benefit greatly from the fact that his Uncle Billy is the town judge. Back home, Rome courts the neighbor girl, Ellie May Gillespie (Anita Louise), although she pushes him off, and we don’t know why. We discover soon enough that Rome’s mother (Brenda Fowler) has her own thoughts on the matter. Ellie May’s parentage is suspect, and that will not do for the Priest name. She’s got her mind set on the boy marrying Virginia Maydew (Rochelle Hudson).

Ellie May seems to know this, and is being paid court by the town barber and local idiot Flem Talley (Frank Melton), who has a laugh the eventually turned into the laugh of the father on the old Hillbilly Bears cartoons. Billy Priest does everything he can to get Rome and Ellie May together, and that’s pretty much the whole start of the film.

Flem Talley speaks loosely of Ellie May in his barbershop, which brings down the ire of the local pariah, Bob Gillis (David Landau). Later, Talley and a couple of his friends lay in wait for Gillis with pool cues, and when it’s Gillis who lays waste to them, they decide to take legal action against him. Gillis turns to Rome Priest for help, and Judge Priest’s enemy Horace Maydew forces the judge to recuse himself from sitting on the bench. And it’s in this court case that all of our story’s threads come together in a flashback sequence that involves the glory of the South, the justification for the Civil War, and pushing the idea that Dixie was justified in everything it did. ‘Scuse me while I throw up in my mouth a little at the thought, and then put the end under a spoiler tag.

*** HIDING UNDER THE PETTICOATS ***

Of course, Bob Gillis is Ellie May’s father. More importantly to all concerned, evidence comes to light that Bob Gillis fought bravely for the Confederacy in the Civil War, risking his life for the glory of Dixie and all for which she stood. And on the basis of that alone, Bob Gillis is exonerated and Rome’s mom is filled with approval of Ellie May.

*** BACK OUT FOR MORE ***

A film like this is difficult to judge from a modern perspective. Certainly the character of Judge Priest is inching slowly toward tolerance, although he’s still a long way away from today’s sensibilities. More concerning to modern eyes is the fact that the racism that is evident throughout the film, either explicitly toward characters like Jeff or implicitly in the support of the ideals of the Confederacy, is seen is just, natural, and good. It’s hard to overcome.

And so I’m torn on this film. On the one hand, it’s a rare and real pleasure to see and hear Will Rogers. On the other hand, the film is so completely mired in the sensibilities of the “Lazy Negro” and happy servant that it’s difficult to watch without wincing.

Why to watch Judge Priest: The homespun wisdom and downhome-y goodness of Will Rogers.
Why not to watch: Tacit racism throughout.

Begorrah!

Film: The Quiet Man
Format: DVD from DeKalb Public Library on kick-ass portable DVD player.

Yesterday was Christmas, and in addition to a few new ties, some kitchen gadgets, and some gift cards, I got a portable DVD player. This means that when I drive my daughter to dance class, I can watch a film while I’m waiting for class to end, and can bring the light and streamlined player instead of my laptop. Bonus, bitches!

The inaugural film is John Ford’s The Quiet Man. Why that film? Because I have it checked out from the library and it needs to go back soon. Additionally, because I looked at the titles I checked out and discovered depressing, depressing, depressing...and this one. Hey’ it was Christmas when I watched, so we’re not doing depressing. We can do that later in the week, but I wasn’t going for existential drama on Christmas.

To start our film, an American named Sean Thornton (John Wayne) shows up in rural Ireland and asks the way to Innisfree. While a gaggle of locals squabble about the best way to get there, a little man named Michaleen (Barry Fitzgerald) grabs Thornton’s bags and the two head to town. Curious as to why an American would want to come to this backwater, and want to buy a house, Thornton reveals his identity—he was born here and his family moved away years ago. He’s returned to claim his family land. Michaeleen remembers him.

This land is owned by (and I’m capping all of the words in this name, because that’s how it’s said throughout the film) The Widow Sarah Tillane. Thornton arranges to buy the land from her in a bidding war with the proud and pugnacious “Red” Will Danaher (Victor McLaglen). Danaher wants the land to add to his holdings, and because it will give him a better connection to Sarah. She happens to be in his age range and wealthy beyond measure, and Will Danaher wants to go a’courting. Now Danaher is forever angry at the Yank and forbids Thornton from courting Mary Kate (Maureen O’Hara), Danaher’s sister. Since Michaleen is the matchmaker, this creates a problem and a conspiracy is created.

So now, Michaleen, Catholic priest Father Lonergan (Ward Bond, who also serves as the film’s narrator), and Protestant minister Reverend Playfair (Arthur Shields), and Playfair’s wife (Eileen Crowe) conspire to trick Danaher. They convince him that Sarah Tillane shows no interest in him because of his sister’s presence in his house. He allows Thornton to pay court, the two are married, and it would seem that all is well.

But it isn’t. He becomes aware of the trick and keeps Mary Kate’s dowry. Sean doesn’t care about the dowry, but she does—to the point of refusing “wifely duties” until she gets her things and her own money. Danaher refuses to pay without a fight—a literal fight—with Thornton. It is here that we learn of the past that made Thornton seek the peace of the Irish countryside. In his former life, he was a boxer known as Trooper Thorn. In his last fight, he killed a man in the ring, and now refuses to strike another man in anger. So the countryside (except for Playfair) now believes him a coward, and Mary Kate can’t stay with a man she believes incapable of fighting for her honor. But, since this is a romance that plays like a romantic comedy, it will all turn out right in the end.

It’s a pretty good set up. It’s also very much the product of its time. I can imagine there are plenty of people who love this movie who would simultaneously be shocked and scandalized if a film with essentially this same plot were to be contemplated today. Women in this film are prizes to be battled for, and belong in the home. Men are hulking thugs looking for an opportunity to get piss-drunk and pound the snot out of each other. A real man swings a fist. Hell, Danaher actually keeps a book of enemies and writes names down in it when someone crosses him.

That, more than anything, is what I have trouble with here. Mary Kate Danaher thinks of nothing but money. In a simpler time, a character like this was called “headstrong” in the movie flack, but what she really is is just bitchy. There is unquestionably value in knowing what you want and fighting for it, but she is obsessed with getting her “fortune” no matter the personal cost to her or the man she claims to love. I realize that culturally, this is what she was brought up to believe, but when Sean Thornton delivers the film’s most famous line (“There’ll be no locks or bolts between us, Mary Kate, except for those in your own mercenary little heart!”), he’s saying it with a lot of justification. When she confesses to Father Lonergan the reality of her marriage—that Sean sleeps in a sleeping bag on the floor because she has refused him the bed—he brings down fire and brimstone like nobody’s business, shaming her terribly, and changing nothing. Evidently, her fortune trumps the fires of Hell.

Beyond this, the Irish countryside is something special to see. The film is gorgeous, no less so than films like The Lord of the Rings that make the audience gasp a bit to see the beauty of the landscape. Maureen O’Hara is fiery and gorgeous as well—she’d be worth a fistfight or two even if she is a beard and a leprechaun hat away from being the pugnacious mascot of Notre Dame.

Many people claim that this is Wayne’s best film. I’m not so sure of that in a career that included films like The Searchers and Stagecoach. It’s a film to show someone who claims that John Wayne couldn’t act, though, or that all he could play was a Western hero or a military hero. Certainly there’s a macho quality to the character of Sean Thornton, a former boxer, but he’s also just a man looking to live a peaceful life. This film is proof that he could do more than just play John Wayne.

Why to watch The Quiet Man: The beauty of Ireland, including Maureen O’Hara.
Why not to watch: It hits on every Irish stereotype you can think of.

Noah's Western Ark

Film: Stagecoach
Format: DVD from Rockford Public Library on big ol’ television.


Consider for a moment Noah’s Ark. I don’t care if you’re a strict fundamentalist (and if you are, you probably aren’t reading my blog in the first place) or if you find it a disturbing piece of Jehovah fan fiction. For just a moment, consider the story. Noah takes a motley assortment of critters onto a big boat, and then the boat sails through treacherous waters to arrive safely at the end. Noah’s Ark is a good metaphor for a particular type of movie. Put a bunch of very different people on or in the same vehicle and send them on their way. If things get boring, add some problems.

And thus we have John Ford’s Stagecoach, where the mode of conveyance is, of course, a stagecoach driving over and over through the same valley (really) through Apache country. There are soldiers, conflicts, rampaging natives, chases, the birth of a child, moral superiority, close calls, and a cavalry charge to save the day. If you’re wondering where a lot of the conventions in Westerns came from, you need look no further.

Essentially, we have a stagecoach leaving one town and headed for another. The locations and names of the towns aren’t important. Thrown onto the stage we have a motley assortment of Old Time West-y folks who have many, many reasons to dislike each other intently. Naturally, this means that they’ll be travelling together in close quarters. Inside the coach, we have Dallas (Claire Trevor), a woman of fallen moral character, who is being run out of town by the decency league of morally upright women. Going with her is the drunken town doctor (Thomas Mitchell), being kicked out for his own moral failings.

We’ve also got one of those morally upright (and uptight) women (Louise Platt), who is married to a soldier at a nearby fort. She’s pregnant, although no one knows this at first. We have the perpetually afraid and nervous whiskey salesman, Peacock (Donald Meek) who would much rather turn around than plow through dangerous territory. A bank manager named Gatewood (Berton Churchill) is desperate to leave town because he’s stealing $50,000 in payroll from the Western Union. We also have a slick gambler (John Carradine) who claims to be going for the protection of the women.

On top of the stage we have Buck (Andy Devine) and Curley (George Bancroft), who happens to be the sheriff. He’s going because a dangerous criminal named the Ringo Kid (John Wayne) happens to have broken out of prison and Curley is anxious to bring him back in. Ringo is looking for some payback on a man named Luke Plummer, and he broke out of jail to get it. It’s evident that both Buck and Curley like the Kid, but Curley has a job to do as the sheriff, and he’s going to do it. The coach encounters the Kid just as it leaves town, and the Kid hops a ride, since the eventual goal of the coach is to get to the town where Luke Plummer is waiting.

It’s easy to look at this film and assume that John Wayne’s character is the center because these days, he’s easily the most famous and well known face in the bunch (although it was Mitchell who won an Oscar for his role, and he’s incredibly familiar as the uncle in It’s a Wonderful Life). That’s a mistake, though. While Wayne’s character is important to the overall narrative, each of the characters on and around the stagecoach has his or her important role to play. Those who start in the positions of moral and social authority—the pregnant woman, the gambler, and the bank manager—end up fallen in some way by the end of the film. Those in low status—the criminal, the prostitute, the coward, and the drunk—all end up redeemed. Each character is critical, and each has his or her moments. Peacock, for instance, is so meek and unassuming that he can’t get anyone to get his name or occupation straight (he’s mistaken for a preacher frequently) until the very end of the movie, after he’s been wounded and survived. Our society matron ends up depending on Dallas the prostitute for assistance, comfort, and care of her child; in fact, it is Dallas who carries the child for almost the entire movie that we are aware of a child. The pregnancy is hidden throughout, and the mother is never seen holding her own infant.

In short, it’s the relationships that happen between the people that are the real thrust of Stagecoach. The ensemble nature of the story and the cast is what drives the film, not Wayne’s performance. If any character is the true center of the film, it is Claire Trevor’s Dallas. When the Ringo Kid goes to confront his nemeses, we see only the beginnings of the fight, and our focus is immediately shifted to Dallas and her concern with the aftermath.

In a world where the Western has become a clichéd film genre, it’s difficult to attempt to watch these clichés unfold without reacting to them in a jaded fashion. It’s important to keep in mind with a film like Stagecoach that in many way, the conventions of the last-minute cavalry rescue, the town drunk, the hooker with the heart of gold, and many of the other standard characters and tropes of the genre were still being invented.

It wouldn’t be a stretch to suggest that as a Western, Stagecoach looks its age. There’s no real way around the fact that this film would probably flop if made exactly like this today. However, there’s much more here than just a standard Western. Stagecoach is worth watching for what Ford was able to accomplish with not just story, but with a cast this large and this good, and with a cast of characters this diverse and yet complete. Are the characters one- and two-dimensional? Perhaps, but each one a complete story arc, and each one grows and changes over the course of the film. The drunk reforms, the whiskey salesmen survives through his fear, the society dame has her prejudice revealed, the bank manager is destroyed. Even Ringo, his revenge complete, has realized that it’s time to stop being a wild gun and time to settle down and raise a family.

In short, don’t watch it because it’s a great Western. Watch it because Ford was a great director, and this is still a great film.

Why to watch Stagecoach: It’s the film that made John Wayne a star.
Why not to watch: Just because many clichés started here, it doesn’t mean they don’t still read as clichés.

The Rebirth of the Western

Films: Winchester ‘73, The Searchers
Format: DVD from personal collection on big ol’ television (Winchester ’73)DVD from DeKalb Public Library on itty bitty television (The Searchers).


Several times in cinematic history, the western has been proclaimed dead. The same plot over and over gets tiresome, and there were a lot of westerns that recycled that some tired plot again and again. In the late 1940s, the western was dead according the Hollywood, good only for B-movies and fading stars, a few cheap thrills and a quick buck in the theater.

Fortunately for a movie-going public that had come to love the tales of the Wild West, some very smart directors and writers got it into their heads to make a different sort of western. The old school western had good guys who were all good and bad guys who were all bad. No one had conceived of a western that featured a hero who was anything other than the noblest paragon of virtue, always fightin’ fair and always coming out on top with nary a scratch on him, no matter what the bad guys did.

It wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to say that Anthony Mann's Winchester ’73 led to something of a revival of the western, and most of that in the character of Lin McAdam (James Stewart). The film follows not the man himself but the gun of the title, and Winchester 1873 model known as a One-in-a-Thousand. This gun was rare, a fortuitous fluke of the production line. Essentially, it was a gun so good that it was nearly flawless; fewer than 150 of them came off the line no matter how many Winchesters were made.

The gun is offered as a prize in a shooting contest in Dodge City, and McAdam shows up with his riding partner High Spade Frankie Wilson (Millard Mitchell). The gun is a rich prize, but the real quarry is a man named Dutch Henry Brown (Stephen McNally). Brown killed McAdam’s father, and McAdam is after him to bring him to justice, preferably at the business end of a Winchester.

In Dodge, everyone has to give up his gun by order of the sheriff, Wyatt Earp (Will Geer). It’s also here that Lin first encounters the film’s femme fatale, Lola Manners (Shelley Winters). She’s on her way out of town, by order of Earp. At the shooting contest, it comes down to McAdam and Brown, who battle it out. McAdam wins with a bit of fancy shooting, but Brown and his gang steal the gun and ride off.

From there, the gun changes hands multiple times: to Indian trader, to chief, to rancher, to criminal. That criminal, Waco Johnnie Dean (Dan Duryea) is waiting on Dutch Henry to pull off a dramatic crime. McAdam and High Spade finally catch up to Dean, Brown, and the gun, and everything comes to a head for the final showdown. The chief isn’t to be missed; it’s Rock Hudson under a lot of makeup.

So what makes it different? Essentially, the biggest difference is that Lin McAdam isn’t a Boy Scout. At several times in the film, he seems very much on the edge of losing control of himself, something that audiences hadn’t seen in the hero of a western film before, and hadn’t seen much from Jimmy Stewart, either. While essentially a heroic character, he is not in control of himself, a significant break from the typical western. It also comes out in the course of the film that McAdam fought for the South in the Civil War, a fact that for many audiences may change the opinion of the man.

This film almost certainly ushered in a new era for Stewart. People were certainly used to seeing him be passionate on the screen; there’s no shortage of emotion in films like Mr. Smith Goes to Washington and It’s a Wonderful Life, but here he is a man truly on the edge of losing himself, and that’s something new for him. Following this film, Stewart went on to take on a number of challenging and nuanced roles.
















It also wouldn’t be much of a stretch to suggest that without Winchester ’73, The Searchers may not have been made, or may not have been made in the same way. The Searchers could be the greatest film of John Wayne’s career. It was unquestionably one of his favorite films, considering the fact that his son, Ethan, was named after Wayne’s character, Ethan Edwards. The simple story is helped immeasurably under the direction of the great John Ford, a veteran of the western genre.

In The Searchers, Ethan Edwards (Wayne) returns home from the Civil War to his brother’s ranch in Texas. Shortly after his arrival, the ranch is raided by the Comanche, who kill most of the Edwards clan, but run off with the two daughters, Lucy and Debbie (Natalie Wood). Ethan sets off in pursuit, accompanied by Martin Pawley (Jeffrey Hunter), the 1/8 Comanche adopted son of Ethan’s brother. The two men pursue the girls and the Comanche tribe for five years, dealing with privation. For Martin, the biggest problem is living without Laurie Jorgenson (Vera Miles), the woman he loves.

Like Lin McAdam, Ethan Edwards is a seriously flawed character. Ethan’s issue is rampant racism against the Comanche in general, and the tribe of Scar (Henry Brandon) in particular. Ethan, in fact, is so overtly racist against the Comanche that he can barely stand to be around Martin most of the time. After a few years of the search, the question becomes not whether or not Ethan and Martin will find Debbie, but whether or not Ethan will kill her when he finds her because she has become assimilated into the tribe.

A few of the more interesting performances come from minor players. One, Charlie McCorry (Ken Curtis), is played as the foil to Martin for the affections of Laurie. McCorry is oddly comic and evidently slow, but has the advantage of being home and available, unlike Martin. Another comic performance comes in the character of Mose Harper (Hank Worden), who is sort of a court jester to the deadly seriousness and earnestness of Ethan.

***HERE THERE BE SPOILERS***

The most telling shot of The Searchers is the final shot when Ethan brings Debbie back home to the family farm. Martin and Laurie enter the house happily, finally together with the remnants of Martin’s family while Ethan stands outside and turns away as the door closes behind him. Ethan, while certainly a member of the family, is forever on the outside looking in. Whether this is due to his intense racism and the fact that he nearly killed Debbie twice or something else isn’t known, and really isn’t important.

However, his hatred of the Comanche is understandable. Lucy is killed almost immediately by the Comanche after being ravaged by them, and Ethan’s family is destroyed as well. It’s evident from the start of the film that Ethan has feelings for his brother’s wife, and she is brutally killed. Additionally, in an almost throwaway, a gravestone by the family homestead indicates that his mother was killed by the Comanche as well.

Ethan’s racism, while always evident, comes to the fore when he encounters a group of soldiers who raided the Comanche and came away with a few white captives. These women are clearly insane, at least by the standards of the white men, particularly the two young girls who do little but grin maniacally at Ethan while he attempts to determine if one of them might be Debbie. Hard to say if the film is suggesting their time among the natives drove them crazy, or if there was some other cause. It might be argued that the women are shell-shocked after a fashion, but in Ethan’s world, they have ceased being white, and are now nothing more than, as he says, “Comanch.”

***THUS ENDETH THE SPOILERS***

Can it be argued that the western became what it did by the influence of these films? I think so. Films like Unforgiven might have never come about without the idea of an imperfect, flawed western hero who was still worth rooting for. Both films are excellent, and both are still worth watching, even for those who aren’t fans of the genre.

Why to watch Winchester ‘73: It was the original gritty reboot for an entire genre.
Why not to watch: It’s not that gritty by today’s standards.

Why to watch The Searchers: Proof that The Duke could act and a plot that still resonates.
Why not to watch: In your world, John Wayne only played John Wayne.